


The Midnight Angel

by jsuislfrost



Category: Heroes of Olympus - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Genre: Art student Will, Artist and Writer AU, College AU, Getting-Together, Language, Literature student Nico, M/M, One-Shot, The AU no one asked for, goddammit tags, solangelo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsuislfrost/pseuds/jsuislfrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Solace was a university art student and he had a final project coming up. He’d spent the best part of his morning banging his head against his desk in frustration because there was literally nothing to draw for this huge assignment. It was due in a week, too, and he hadn’t even started. </p>
<p>But now he’d seen this guy, Will could genuinely visualise the curves of pen lines he’d use and what shades of colour he’d splash onto the canvas he needed to do. </p>
<p>Or more accurately, what shades of black. </p>
<p>Writer/Art student AU Solangelo</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Midnight Angel

Will couldn’t stop staring. And sure maybe he looked creepy as fuck, but right now he didn’t care. He was positive someone had managed to glue his eyes to the boy across the library, and he was torn between punching them in the face and giving them a medal.

The sketchpad in his hands started trembling.

Will Solace was a university art student and he had a final project coming up. He’d spent the best part of his morning banging his head against his desk in frustration because there was _literally nothing to draw_ for this huge assignment. It was due in a week, too, and he hadn’t even started.

The object of his task was to create a character log folder, complete with portraits from all angles, drawings in various styles, a canvas painting and an evaluation. It had sounded easy enough when he’d gotten it, but as soon as Will had sat down to start drawing, he’d hit a wall and then hit the table.

But now he’d seen _this_ guy, Will could genuinely visualise the curves of pen lines he’d use and what shades of colour he’d splash onto the canvas he needed to do.

Or more accurately, what shades of black.

He looked sort of punkish, but that might have just been all the dark colours he had going on. His messy jet black hair was pulled into a tiny little pony tail at the nape of his neck, and he was wearing dark skinny jeans with combat boots and a grey singlet with a huge black wing on it, artfully done with feathers soaring across the fabric. There was a hoodie draped over the chair he was on, and his skin was a pale milk colour. From this distance, Will could just make out dark lashes and gorgeous, black-brown eyes.

And that was when he realised that the beautiful boy was looking directly at him, unblinkingly, and Will felt his face heat up to extreme temperatures.

_Oh, you are_ dead _now, Solace,_ he gulped. Closing his eyes and praying to whatever gods there were, Will approached the table the boy was at. He noticed scattered papers crumpled into balls and the illegible scrawl all over the stranger’s binder. The words inside the open folder were just as unreadable, but then, Will had dyslexia.

“U-Uh,” he started, really smoothly. The black haired boy suddenly looked away and Will noticed a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. _What…?_

“Sorry,” the pretty stranger said softly, and Will started.

“What for?” he asked. The boy raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was staring,” he said, because it was obvious, he had been, but so had Will. The art student smiled sheepishly.

“Ah well, I was… too…” he said awkwardly. There was silence from both parties as Will thought about what to say.

“Okay so here’s the sitch,” he began. “I have a gigantic log folder due in a week and you are literally all the inspiration I’ve been able to find since I got the stupid assignment so just sit there and let me sketch you?”

The boy looked taken aback as Will dumped his book on the table, opened it and grabbed the pencil he’d been keeping behind his ear.

“You’re an art student?” he asked, and Will nodded. The boy suddenly looked like someone had sparked a circuit in his brain and he hurriedly scrawled something, all the while staring at Will.

“I’m a literary student,” he said, still writing and staring, not even watching what he was doing, “and I’m in the same boat as you but with a writing character log.” He suddenly looked shy. “D-Do you mind if I… you know… use you?”

Will leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“We seem to have come to an agreement,” he decided. “Let’s do it.”

**…---…**

The boy’s name was Nico di Angelo, and he was Will’s age. When Will had heard that he’d almost blown a fuse and ripped his notebook open, hurriedly drawing across his first picture of Nico and adding something to it. When he’d finished, he turned his pad around to show the other boy, and watched as his ears went red at the sight of a beautiful pencil sketch of Nico with wings.

It took a little longer for Nico to share his work with Will, but when he did, the blond was blown away. He glanced at the notes Nico had made during his observations of Will, and he’d obviously looked closely because there were lines and lines of little dot pointed records of some of Will’s habits, and what he looked like, and how he looked when he was concentrated on his art.

When Will got to the canvas painting he had to do, he decided he needed something raw. Nico had been able to watch him and note down his quirks, and now Will wanted a genuine work of the other boy when he didn’t know he was being observed. So began the stalking. Or, as Will preferred thinking of it, careful and detailed research.

**…---…**

Will found his literary target outside at two in the morning. No, he hadn’t been following Nico all day just for a moment where the black haired boy was alone and had let his guard down. Of course not. He’d simply been accidentally walking by. At two am. On a weeknight.

Whatever kind of lies Will told himself though, the overall result was worth it, because sitting at the base of the largest tree on campus was a brooding Nico di Angelo in his most vulnerable state.

He looked sort of dead.

One of his legs was drawn up, ever-present black skinny jeans causing a formless shadow in the moonlight. The other was stretched out along the ground, a sketchpad and worn-down whiteout tape dispenser beside it. In his hand he was twirling a blue biro.

The rest of Nico was against the tree, his head tipped back and his hair sticking up in all directions, like he’d tried sleeping in one of the branches. His features were delicately sharp in the cutting silver moon’s shine, and his eyes were half closed and staring off into the distance.

Will changed his mind. Nico didn’t look dead. Nico looked like the godly depiction of a fallen angel who was missing his heavenly life but was too stubborn to go back.

Sitting down in the shadow of a fire hydrant with a small flashlight in his mouth, Will put pencil to paper and started.

**…---…**

Back in his room at five the same morning, Will tiredly downed two double-shot coffees before putting his draft sketch against a blank easel. He then dragged out the largest canvas he had and pinned the pencil drawing beside it before rubbing his hands and getting out his paints. Putting a brush in his mouth as he mixed hues, Will studied the sketch he’d done a few hours before.

Nico hadn’t noticed him there, and Will had managed to get one of the best draft pictures he’d ever had just because of that. Nico had only moved once, and that was to robotically jot down a single note on his pad. Will wondered what he’d written.

Picking up another pencil, Will started the outline for his canvas painting.

**…---…**

“Well done, Mr Solace!”

Will’s professor patted him heartily on the back as his art class clapped and whistled. He grinned.

“Your piece has been selected to be presented at the annual Creative Arts collaboration this year.” Professor Chiron told him. Chiron was the head of the Arts at the college, and he’d come to Will’s lecture to announce that his assignment had been selected for display this year. Will almost cried he was so happy.

Will hadn’t shown Nico his canvas painting. After he’d finished, he and the literature student had only met up twice more: for Will to complete his charcoal piece and the evaluation, and for Nico to finish up whatever it was he had been doing. He’d been even more secretive about his work, which made Will worry. They’d become quite good friends, after all.

But now that he was finished his assessment, Will wanted to show Nico what he’d inspired. He’d invite him to the Arts festival if he wasn’t going already, and if he was… Will wanted Nico to go with him.

“We should set up your exhibit this afternoon,” Chiron was saying. “That way, it’ll be ready for the beginning of the show tomorrow.”

Will nodded, but his mind was a thousand miles away.

**…---…**

After setting up all his work, Will headed in the direction of the largest tree on campus, hoping Nico would follow his pattern of being there in the afternoons. When the art student arrived, he smiled at the sight of the black haired boy leaning against the trunk. Nico looked over as Will approached.

“Hey, Nico!” he greeted, and Nico gave him a small smile in response. Will felt a small heat on his cheeks.

“Hi, Will,” Nico replied, sliding down the tree to sit on the ground. Will followed suit, tucking his legs up and crossing them before leaning forward earnestly.

“So the Creative Arts display is on tomorrow,” he started, “and I want you to go with me.”

Nico’s head snapped up to look at him, his mouth open slightly in surprise.

“What?” he asked. Will waved his hands vaguely in the air.

“Would you like to go with me?” he repeated. “I’ll buy you coffee so the morning isn’t too terrible.”

Nico scowled at him, but he didn’t mean it. Glancing down at his fiddling hands, the literature student nodded.

“Okay.”

“Great!” Will clapped and grinned at the smaller boy. “I’ll come by your dorm at nine, check?”

“You don’t know where my dorm is,” Nico pointed out. Will made a face.

“Well then can you tell me?”

Nico sighed like a long-suffering parent before tearing a bit of paper out of his ever-present binder and writing something on it in large letters, accommodating Will’s dyslexia. He then handed the ripped piece to Will before getting to his feet.

“Block 13,” Will read. “Floor Two, door number sixty-six?”

Nico nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a roommate?” Will asked. Nico shook his head.

“Okay then!” Pocketing the bit of paper, Will got up too and grinned at the literature student. “I’ll be by around eight-thirty with a black coffee and two sugars.”

Nico looked down at the ground and scuffed some of the grass, blushing pink. Will’s face started to hurt from smiling so wide and he ruffled the smaller boy’s hair before flouncing away and yelling over his shoulder.

“It’s a date, then!”

**…---…**

True to his word, Will was outside Nico’s door at eight twenty-five holding two coffees – one black, the other a latte – with a few sachets of sugar tangled in his fingers. He was early, mulling over a few things as he stared at Nico’s door. Somehow, the little black haired lit student who spoke sparingly and didn’t go into the sun enough had managed to worm into his heart like a parasite.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that if Nico was parasite and he decided to infect Will, Will wasn’t entirely sure he would care. What had started as a get-out-of-jail-free card in the form of a gorgeous stranger in the library had turned into a ‘I got out of one jail and now I’m stuck in another’ kind of situation where he didn’t fail his assignment, but now he had a crush on his ticket out.

Will hit his forehead on the door in frustration. He wasn’t good with keeping his feelings a secret. He’d have to tell Nico eventually and then where would that land him? The fact that he was already finding it hard to keep his mouth shut was a problem he wasn’t prepared to deal with yet. Maybe he’d even blurt it out at the arts exhibit.

The door opened.

Nico was standing there in his usual outfit, but Will noticed he was wearing the same shirt as when they first met: the grey singlet with the big black wing on it. He had a zip-up hoodie around his shoulders and his hair was in that small pony tail again, with a pen stuck through it.

“Uh, Will?” Nico asked. “Your forehead’s red.”

Will smiled sheepishly.

“Well I’m holding coffee,” he offered. “I had to knock somehow.”

Nico raised his eyebrows.

“And you couldn’t just kick the door or something, instead of banging your face on it?”

Will blinked.

“I didn’t… think of that.”

Nico scoffed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him and locking it.

“If you regularly announce yourself like that then I’m not surprised, considering how many brain cells that’d cost.”

“Hey!”

He was rewarded with one of those fleeting smiles as Nico put his arms in his jacket sleeves and took the takeaway cup with _BLACK_ written on it in marker.

“Thanks for the coffee, Will,” he said, his voice softer. Will grinned and handed over two of the sugar packets. Nico ripped them open and dumped them in his drink as they started walking. Will looked the shorter boy over for a second before frowning.

“Hey, Nico?” Nico hummed in response. “Where’s your notebook?”

Nico bit his lip before sipping again. Will waited.

“Not here,” was the reply. The art student pushed open the main door of Block 13, glancing back at his companion.

“I can see that,” he said. “Why isn’t it? You usually have it everywhere.”

“Well yours isn’t here either,” Nico retorted. Will nursed his cup for a moment before answering.

“Mine’s on display,” he said finally. “I got picked to be this year’s visual art representative at the show.”

Nico’s eyes widened as he looked up at his friend.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“Yesterday.”

“Will.” The blond glanced down. “That’s great!”

He smiled widely again before watching the main green of the college loom up before them.

“I hope you like it,” Will said quietly. _I certainly do._

**…---…**

It was already super packed by the time Nico and Will arrived, and they were only five minutes into the exhibition.

“I guess a lot of people came to see their stuff on display,” Nico grumbled as he and Will walked in. His empty coffee cup was still in his hands and Will saw him clenching it. He plucked the rubbish out of Nico’s grip.

“Here,” he said. “I’ll take them to the bin. Be back in a sec.”

Then he started weaving through the crowd, towards where he could see a half-full trash can beside the literature display. Throwing his and Nico’s finished cups into it, Will turned around to head back. His eyes caught the many pages of the lit display and he took the few steps towards it, just to see who in Nico’s class had gotten their work up. He looked at the title.

_The Rouge Sunbeam_

Will was interested. He started reading the first piece.

_In the beginning, the room was simply filled with light. No one would have been able to guess that the light had a source that was beyond what we defined as supernatural. And when he walked out, his feet barely skimming the ground and dressed in the casual way of the rest of the area’s occupants, no one questioned him. But to the people who were not there, the ones who looked down on the roof of that building and saw it as the size of an ant, he was the most important being of a universe. The Rouge Sunbeam._

Now Will was just beyond intrigued. This was really well written! Hats off to whoever this lit student was. He kept reading, pretty much forgetting everything else around him.

_People should have been able to tell by just looking at him. Stare long enough at his golden hair, and it began waving like dancing light braided with the warmth of a fire. The colours of the sky pooled in his eyes, bluer than the bluest water and deeper than the sea could dream of being. Jealousy stirred cosmoses in wake of the light dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. His beauty would begin wars and invoke worshipping priests, but he wouldn’t have it. He turned away from the attention to enjoy the simpler things in life, to be what he knew he wanted to be and not what he was expected._

_So then, here is the story of how the embodiment of the sun befriended a shadow._

That was where the first page ended, and Will was about to keep reading before he saw the name in the header of the paper.

He stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped comprehending life and the greater universe as three little words swam in front of his eyes.

**_Nico di Angelo._ **

This… this was Nico’s work? So…

Will read the words again, but now he was seeing them in a new light. _He_ had been Nico’s inspiration. This was about _him._ This was now Nico di Angelo saw Will Solace.

**…---…**

Will was all but pushing people out of the way to get back to the spot where he’d left Nico. That little shit. Why didn’t he tell Will he’d been chosen to have his work displayed too! And why didn’t he ever say how good he was! And… Will’s cheeks tinted pink as he thought about what Nico had written. He was ready to both wring the black haired boy’s skinny neck and pepper his face with kisses, which was a very hard decision.

When he reached the area near the entrance, Will looked around wildly for the thin frame of one Nico di Angelo. He didn’t see him. Will looked again and again, but all he could find was a swarm of people heading for the wall closest to him, muted whispers of excitement and awe passing between them but nothing that would help him find Nico. Dragging a hand down his face, Will groaned loudly. A pair of elderly ladies stared at him for a moment before going back to their loud conversation. Will was about to leave, but then he caught a few words from their talking.

“Isn’t that painting beautiful?” one of them was saying. She had a lavender shawl over her shoulders.

“It is, isn’t it?” her friend agreed, her glasses turning towards the wall everyone seemed to be interested in. “And that young man standing in front of it looks exactly like the one in the picture. I have to wonder if the artist used him as a sort of model.”

“Speaking of that boy, did you see his shirt? The wing on it was just like the ones in the painting.”

Will’s breathing hitched and he whirled around to gape at the old ladies.

“Excuse me!” he said, going over to them as fast as the crowd would allow. “Sorry for interrupting you, but you said something about a boy with a wing on his shirt?”

“Yes,” the one with the lavender shawl replied. She looked Will up and down.

“Where is he?” Will begged.

“Over by the visual art exhibit,” glasses-lady told him, pointing with a withered hand. Will’s head snapped around to stare. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed that the masses were pooling around the area where he’d hung his art last night but damn, now Nico was over there too? This was not how he had imagined introducing his friend to his work, especially the canvas painting.

“Thank you!” he said quickly, before starting his way through the crowd again. He thought he saw the grey-streaked brown hair of Professor Chiron in the throng, but he didn’t want to talk to the Head of the Creative Arts right now. He needed to find Nico.

One last layer of observers and he saw him, standing right in front of Will’s work. From the back, the art student couldn’t see Nico’s expression, but judging by the way he was stock still, Will prepared for the worst.

He approached his friend like he would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. When he was beside him, Will glanced down to see Nico’s face. He was shocked and a little worried to see tears forming in the deep brown depths.

“Nico?” he asked quietly.

“W-Will.” Nico’s voice was soft and breathy as he limply lifted a finger to point at the large painting on the wall. “You… did this? All of this?”

Will looked at the artwork himself.

On top of, to the left, and to the right of the canvas was all the various types of drawings Will had done. On the bottom was his evaluation and written explanation of his pieces. All of his art was of a winged Nico.

The charcoal picture was a view from below, and it captured Nico in full flight, his black wings spread out and an oddly serene expression on his face. The top of his body was done lighter than the rest to represent the sun washing over him.

In Will’s pencil sketch, Nico was shirtless and facing away with his back the prime subject of the picture. The two wings that were part of his character were hanging limply from his shoulder blades and stray feathers were floating in the air around him. The boy in the drawing was looking over his shoulder with an expression of anguish on his face.

A collage was beside the pencil sketch, and it had been done using teeny tiny little square bits of tissue paper glued onto white cardboard. It almost looked like a mosaic, is not for the pieces overlapping each other. It depicted just the top half of Nico’s face – his black-brown eyes stormy, his nose crinkled in a scowl and his eyebrows drawn together in anger. His black hair was frozen in an air-ruffled state. The rest of his face – his mouth, chin and jaw – were hidden behind what were obviously his wings, which were done with scary precision so that the individual feathers were still obvious.

The rest of the wall was scattered with more pictures like this, done in different ways – digital, pen, fabric, and the like. More drawings were simply done in pencil showing the winged Nico at different angles. Beautiful as they all were, they only managed to frame the canvas work Will had spent hours and hours on.

It was a replica of the night he’d followed Nico outside. The tree was painted with dark brown and green mingling together, and the top of the picture had a branch overhang in it that cut the moon in half. Nico was seated at the base of the tree like he usually was, but this time his wings were around him. One was flicked up in the air, and the other was lying on the ground. In his black clothes and jacket with his features just as defined as they were when Will had drawn him, Nico looked slightly haunted but simultaneously at peace. His half-hooded eyes were looking away from the audience and his head was tipped back against the bark, his mouth a thin line.

At the top of the painting in curving white words was the title:

_The Midnight Angel_

“Yeah,” Will answered Nico’s question. “I suppose I did.”

Nico slowly looked up at him with an expression like he didn’t know whether he should cry or punch Will. Will sincerely hoped he’d do neither.

“It’s…” Nico seemed to search for a word, “…beautiful.”

“Well, you _are_ beautiful.”

Will slapped a hand over his mouth and his face blazed red. Nico’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as the arts student breathed in and out in panic.

“Oh, _shit-”_

Will felt fingers fisting in his collar and he took his hands away from his face to start apologising before Nico head-butted him into oblivion. But the tension on his clothes wasn’t making him bend down. Will looked at Nico, only to see the smaller boy had grabbed his shirt and buried his face in Will’s jacket.

“You idiot, Solace,” Nico whispered. He gulped against Will’s chest and then, even quieter, he said, “I think you’re…”

Will’s brain started sparking and suddenly he relaxed, bringing his own arms around and pulling Nico closer to him. He remembered the detail he’d read in Nico’s work; the care he’d taken with writing Will to be exactly who he was.

“A rouge sunbeam,” Will finished for him. Nico looked up at Will. The art student raised his eyebrows at his friend – maybe more now? – and playfully messed up his already dishevelled hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me your stuff was on display here too, di Angelo?”

Nico blinked. Once. And again. Then he shoved Will and stormed towards where his work was displayed, throwing what would look like an expression of loathing to anyone who didn’t know him over his shoulder. But to Will it was an invitation. _Come with me, maybe?_ The art student followed Nico through the crowd, waving to him.

“Wait up, di Angelo!”

He caught the black haired boy halfway there and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“So,” Will started, “I only got to read the first page of your work and you seem like a good plot strategist. So-” He looked down at Nico, who was staring back at him. “- I have a question about a story I know.

“There’s two guys in it – one of them is the embodiment of the sun with waving golden hair and eyes bluer than the sky. The other is beautiful, with black wings and skin like milk. What I’d like to know is…”

Will stopped walking and watched Nico carefully.

“Would the Midnight Angel like to go out with the Rouge Sunbeam?”

His answer was a quiet, feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Will gently linked their hands as he and Nico wandered the arts display that had brought them together. Smiling softly, Will came to the conclusion that, whoever had glued his eyes to the boy across the library, he was definitely giving them a medal.

**Author's Note:**

> My fingers slipped


End file.
